


All for him

by TrashyLittleThing



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Moominpappa is a good friend, joxter being a good dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashyLittleThing/pseuds/TrashyLittleThing
Summary: Joxter, in his first appearances, seems to be unable to read and write. Let's change that for cute stuff, shall we?What if he learned how to write after Snufkin was born? Yeah lets go for that.click here for father-son bonding, Joxter loving his baby boy and wholesome content





	1. Joxter reads for one person only

It was a late evening in the house.

Joxter had waited, and waited, and waited. He had done nothing but wait that day, and he was beginning to tire of the waiting.  
“Hey, what’s the--” He began, bursting into the room. But something stopped him from continuing. Mymble was lying in the bed, tired, as she held a small bundle of blankets. A baby, a child, life.  
“Did… Is that..?” Joxter began, approaching the bed quietly as not to disturb the little thing. Mymble simply smiled, encouraging Joxter to sit next to her. Joxter looked down at the soft green blankets, only for his eyes to fall on a small face. The baby boy had soft light brown hair and little hands curled into himself. He looked just like Joxter did when he was young, button nose, chubby cheeks and all.  
Soon, the baby opened his eyes, those beautiful brown eyes staring up at Joxter. His eyes began to tear up, and he covered his mouth, looking down at the child in Mymble’s arms. Joxter took his hat off and put it to the side so that he could get a better look at the young child.  
“oh… Oh my god…” Joxter whispered, as his son was handed to him. “Hey there, little guy..!” He cooed, smiling at the small face that stared at him. The baby reached up towards his father’s face, smiling.  
“Mymble… He’s… Oh, he’s perfect!” Joxter cried, hugging the babbling baby. “Have you got a name in mind for your son?” Mymble asked, lying down to rest herself.  
“I… I think his name should be Snufkin…” Joxter sighed, softly kissing the tiny baby on the forehead. Baby Snufkin babbled and giggled, grabbing at his father’s face affectionately. His heart melted at the bundle in his arms, as he held the boy close and refused to let go for the rest of the evening.

 

Now 3 years old, Snufkin was running around with his father in the garden. Mymble laughed, as she sewed in the shade.  
“You can’t catch me, daddy!” the young boy cried as he ran.  
“oh yes I will!” Joxter called, scooping his boy up as he shrieked in surprise. “Gotcha!” He said, hugging his boy as they both laughed.  
“Boys, lets head inside, it’s getting late” Mymble said, going over to her son and husband. They went inside. As Mymble made the dinner, Joxter made sure Snufkin was bathed and dried and dressed for bed. They had their dinner, and Joxter picked his son up to put him to bed.  
“Daddy, can you read me a bedtime story?” Snufkin asked, grabbing a book from his nightstand as his father tucked him into bed. Unknown to Snufkin, Joxter couldn’t read. Known to Mymble, Joxter's heart was breaking.

He couldn't do this one simple thing, something that Mymble found so easy, something even his son was learning to do! He had explored the world, gone on adventures, and all he wanted to do in that moment was know one thing, something that wouldn't make his baby boy as upset as Joxter knew it would. 

“Sorry. Not tonight, kitten, daddy’s busy in the morning, so he needs to go to bed early. Maybe another night?” Joxter offered, his heart sinking. He knew this wouldn’t please the young boy, but he couldn’t read like his son wanted him to.  
Snufkin’s face fell, and he began to cry fat tears. Mymble rushed through when she heard her son crying, and Joxter scooped him up to comfort him, shushing him lightly as he walked around the room. Mymble stood in confusion at the sudden outburst, but she hid a smile when Joxter quickly scooped up the boy. He really was being a good father.  
“Why can’t you read me a story? I want you to do your silly voices, you tell the best stories!” Snufkin cried into his father’s chest. Mymble knew why Joxter couldn’t read the story to the boy, and her heart broke for him.  
Joxter used to tell Snufkin stories about his adventures, or stories he just made up. snufkin loved them, but he wanted his father to read the stories he wanted, full of magical creatures and fierce dragons and heroic protagonists fighting evil, not about how his father went out and did silly things out with his friends.

After about half an hour of the choking tears, Snufkin fell asleep in his father's arms. 

Joxter decided to talk to his friend in the night.

 

“Evening, Moomintroll” Joxter greeted his old friend.  
“oh, good evening Joxter, what brings you here?” Moomintroll, now Moominpappa, greeted. “I… I have a favour to ask of you, my friend.” Joxter began. “… Could you teach me how to read?” He continued after checking there was nobody listening. Moominpappa showed surprise in the way his tail seemed to straighten like a board and his back straighten quickly.  
“Well, this is certainly a surprise. Why do you suddenly want to read?” Moominpappa asked, turning away from his desk.  
“I… You know how we’re both fathers now?” Joxter said, sitting in the chair next to Moominpappa’s prized desk. 

“You never told me you had a child! How—How old are they? What’s their name? Oh, Joxter, tell me everything!” Moominpappa cried. His wife came in, shushing her husband, since their own child had just been put to bed.  
Joxter sighed, smiling. He knew his friend would react this way, so it was no use denying him the information. “I had a son. His name is Snufkin, and he’s three years old. He looks just like me, minus his brown hair and his round, chubby face” He smiled, bringing out a photo of his baby boy. Moominpappa squeaked in joy, knowing that his friend was now a proud parent to the little boy in the picture.  
“So, do you want to teach him to read?” Moominpappa asked, going to his bookshelf for some basic books to read. “No. Tonight he was crying because daddy couldn’t read him a bedtime story” Joxter sighed, remembering how upset his baby got. He still had a damp patch from the tears, which Moominpappa noticed.  
“Oh, poor thing… I can teach you, yes, if only for your boy” Moominpappa agreed.  
For the next few hours, Moominpappa taught Joxter the basics of reading, and he was making progress. He could read the alphabet and knew the 'sh' and 'ch' sounds, as well as how to sound out words.  
“This is harder than it looks, ain’t it?” Joxter groaned, flopping his head down onto the open book. “Well, you have an amazing work ethic. You’ve made more progress than you think” encouraged Moominpappa, moving his friend’s head so Joxter would look at him. They continued to teach and learn respectively, and by morning, Joxter could read basic sentences. He was very proud of himself, and Moominpappa was very proud of him for learning this skill so quickly.  
“Until he starts wanting more complicated stories, I’d say you’re most ready. Come back tomorrow afternoon, I can show you more things, like how to write?” Offered the generous Moominpappa, but Joxter declined for now.  
“It’s all I want for now. Thank you, old friend”

 

“Snuffy, guess whaaaaaat?” Joxter cooed as he entered the bedroom of his young boy. Snufkin was dressed for bed, minus his little hat, and was climbing in.  
“Whazzat, daddy?” Snufkin asked, as he was scooped up and balanced on a hip. “Daddy’s gonna read to you tonight, kitten” Joxter smiled, and little Snufkin squealed in delight.  
“Okay, kitty, settle down. How about you pick a book?” Joxter offered, smiling as he walked towards the small shelf of books. Snufkin began to reach for one called ‘The Gruffalo’. Joxter knew this one, he had heard it, but he felt more confident reading now after some practice that morning.  
“I like this one, it’s my favourite!” Snufkin cooed, hugging the small wooden book. Joxter walked over to the bed, “Well then, let's read it together”.

Joxter got into the bed with his son, sitting the young boy on his lap, and he opened the book. “A mouse took a stroll through the deep dark wood. A fox saw the mouse and the mouse looked good” Joxter began, following the words with his finger so that he could follow the words easier. Snufkin's eyes followed that finger studiously, always watching it and following where it went. Then, Joxter decided to put on one of his silly voices, one that sounded sleazy and cunning. “Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come inside and have lunch in my underground house” he continued. Snufkin yawned, but Joxter paid it no mind.

He continued to read, finding the skill coming more naturally to him as he continued, and reading aloud was certainly a helpful tool.  
“All was quiet in the deep dark wood. The mouse found a nut and the nut was good. The end—huh?” Joxter closed the book, finding the little boy asleep on his lap. He cuddled into his father’s arm and had dozed off while he was being read to. Joxter simply smiled, picking up the young boy and tucking him in. With a kiss on the forehead, placing his little green hat on the cabinet to the side and tucking him into the bed, Joxter wished his son goodnight.

“Sweet dreams, kitten” He whispered, closing the door quietly.


	2. Snufkin's nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin always had an abandonment thing in the show, so how about a fic about just that?

Joxter awoke that night to the sound of a cry for his name. "DADDY!!!" it cried again. it was followed by a low growing sound.

Realising the voice was his son’s, he dashed to the room in a blind panic. He slung the door open and grabbed his pocket knife from the hall table to defend.  
Inside that room was the 5-year-old Snufkin, moving as far away as he could from an Alpha Male wolf.

“Get away from my son” Joxter practically growled, holding the knife in a reverse grip position and walking towards the beast slowly, the blade pointing towards the predator. His face was thunderous, and he was ready to attack, his teeth bared, his tail flicking angrily and his fangs showing. “If you did anything to him, I will skin you alive!” he hissed, taking a moment to look towards the bed at the cornered child. He seemed unharmed, but the threat still stood.  
The beast growled at Joxter, and Joxter growled back, only louder and more intimidating. This made the alpha question his decision to enter the Joxter’s home and attempt to eat his pup. Bad move.

Snufkin already knew his dad was the coolest thing ever, but now he knew his dad was braver than anyone he knew. The man who was raising him was prepared to face off against an alpha wolf with nought but a pocket knife and tactics learned from his youth.  
After a few slashes and jabs were made at the alpha by the protective father, it jumped out of the window and ran away into the woods with it’s tail between his legs and whimpering in the painful slashes from the sharp blade.

“Snufkin, are you alright!?” Joxter rushed to his son quickly, throwing the knife across the floor and scooping the boy up. Snufkin nodded, hugging his dad tightly and burying his face into his shoulder. Joxter was on his knees, holding the boy close, protectively.  
“Daddy, I was scared--!” The young boy began. “Shh, shh, it’s okay kitten, you don’t need to be afraid. I will always be there to protect you, always.” Joxter interrupted the trembling boy, holding him close and kissing him on the head.

“You’ll never go away?” Snufkin asked, remembering why he woke up before the wolf made him scream. “Never, kitty, never ever not ever will I leave you to fend for yourself. Why on earth would you think I would?” Joxter answered, pulling his son away so he could look the boy in the eyes.  
“I-I woke up before I saw the wolfie, I had a nightmare!” Snufkin cried, throwing himself back into his father’s arms. Joxter held the boy tightly, walking through to the living room to lie down and cuddle the boy back to rest, all while shushing him gently.

“What was it about?” Joxter asked. Snufkin looked away, looking ashamed of himself for what he dreamt.  
“Come on, kitten, you can tell me anything. What did you see?” Joxter asked again, trying not to be too firm with the boy. Again, Snufkin looked further away, his ears were pinned to his head and his tail was limp with anxiety.  
“Snufkin, if you don’t tell me what it was, I can’t do anything to make you feel better about it” Joxter stated firmly. This made Snufkin’s ears perk back up and his eyes return to his father’s dark pupils.  
“I dreamed… that you a-and moominpappa went away to-to go on an adventure, a-and you never came back for me… I saw you again, but I had grown up an-and you didn’t recognise me!” Snufkin bawled. 

Joxter’s eyes widened, knowing now why Snufkin didn’t like his adventures other than his old stories. He held the boy tightly and rubbed circles on his back to soothe him gently.

“Snufkin. Look at me, kitten” Joxter cooed to the teary-eyed child laying on his chest.  
Looking up, Snufkin saw a comforting smile on his father’s face. The soft black hair he used to tug at was bed-head sort of messy, and his forehead was slightly shiny from cold sweat. 'must have been from the scary wolfie' the young lad thought, and he wasn't wrong.

Joxter took the boy's face in the palms of his hands, feeling the two little paws on his hands. Snufkin was almost holding Joxter's hands to his face, since it made him feel so safe. He wiped the tears from Snufkin's face, kiss his forehead softly.

“Snufkin, kitten, bubba, I would never do that to you. You’re my everything, and I would fight a hundred wolves off with a blunt stick to come back to you, and don’t you ever think I wouldn’t recognise my own baby boy, okay?” Joxter cooed, his voice clear but firm. Snufkin certainly heard his father, and nodded when his dad finished speaking. 

 

“Could you.. could you stay with me tonight?” Snufkin asked, his eyes wide with hope. With a subtle eye-roll, Joxter nodded to the now smiling boy.  
Carrying the small boy over to the pile of blankets in the corner, he picked out a soft green one and a red one. The green one made him smile broadly, because five years ago, Snufkin was presented to him in that very blanket.  
He headed back to the couch and swaddled the boy in the green cotton cloth and slumped onto the spacious couch. He curled up, like a cat would, and patted the area his body curled around. Happily, the bundled boy shuffled over to his father’s side and cuddled into him lovingly.  
“Hopefully you’ll never get too big for me to do this.” Joxter sighed to himself as he grabbed the red blanket and put it over both of them. 

Before they knew it, they were fast asleep. Snufkin felt safe, knowing his brave daddy would fend away the nightmares.


	3. Fever season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin gets a fever and his father takes care of him.  
> Also snufkin loves raspberries, that's going to be a theme in this chapter of Softness

Mymble was away that day, of all days.

Joxter went into his boy’s room to announce about a fishing trip he had planned for them, but Snufkin’s face was miserable.  
“you okay, kitten?” Asked Joxter, sitting on the bed next to his son. Little Snufkin shimmied over to cuddle up on his father’s lap, purring lightly. Joxter went to scratch him behind the ear, but the heat from the 4-year-old’s forehead was concerning.  
Placing a hand over it, he knew it was a fever coming on. The poor thing was feeling miserable.  
“That fever isn’t gonna go down anytime soon. Feeling okay, kitten?” asked Joxter  
Snufkin nodded, but his forehead was warm, and his cheeks were red. His tired eyes tried to open, but it wasn’t going to work. “my head hurts…” Snufkin whined.  
“Shh, I know it will, but it’ll go away soon, Okay? You just gotta be brave, kitten, can you do that for me?” Joxter soothed. He picked the boy up in a blanket and brought him to the couch. Plonking the boy down, he quickly got a bowl ‘just in case he was sick’ and set about making some warm soup.  
Soup always made Snufkin feel better, and it made medicine go down a treat. Joxter went for a small brown bottle of bitter liquid as he stirred the pot of tomato and home-grown basil soup. The sight of that bottle made Snufkin groan at the sight.  
“dadddyyy, that stuff’s grooossssss” Snufkin whined as his father approached with a bowl of soup and the bottle of horrid tasting liquid.   
“Baby, this is one of Moominmamma’s grandmother’s recipes, it’ll make you feel better” Joxter tried to convince the boy, handing him the soup. Snufkin happily took the warm soup and began to drink.

After letting a few glugs go down, Joxter gently took the bowl from the boy before he chugged the lot in one go. “Go slower, you’ll be sick” Joxter warned him. Going for the bottle, he sat the child on his lap and held him so he couldn’t escape. Snufkin knew what was coming and began to wriggle.  
“Snufkin, please. Sit still, you need to take it!” Joxter groaned, his spoon dodging the flailing child’s arms. “Nooo! Its nasty!!” Snufkin whined. While his mouth was open, Joxter put the spoon in the boy’s mouth.  
Now, Joxter wasn’t stupid, so he had crushed up some raspberries and put them on the spoon before the medicine went on, to dull the bitter taste.  
Snufkin tasted the nasty flavour, but the taste of raspberries soothed him. Swallowing, he leaned against his father and curled in on himself. Joxter offered a spoon of raspberries, and the boy accepted the sweet berries gladly.   
“That should dull the fever, how’s the headache, kitty?” Joxter asked, laying down on the couch. Snufkin curled up on his chest and felt his ears pin to his head. The headache was becoming a terrible migraine, and it felt horrid to the young boy. He whined, feeling the migraine worsen, and he looked to the only one who could fix it. 

Joxter could deal with colds, fevers, injuries and tears, but he couldn’t fix migraines. All he could do was make the poor baby sleep it off.  
Joxter picked him up and began to walk to the boy’s room to put him to sleep.  
“Can I have a lullaby? Mama gives me lullabies when I have headaches” Snufkin groaned as he was tucked into bed.   
“Oh alright, just for you” Joxter gave in.

“Flower, gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse and bring back what once was mine…” Joxter began to sing, his voice deep and velvet smooth. It was a healing song, one that Mymble used to hear from her mother, then she sang it to Joxter and then her son. It was like an heirloom song, beautifully sang every time.  
“Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design, save what has been lost and bring back what once was mine…” he continued to sing the healing song.  
As his voice rang out, Mymble arrived home. She heard the singing and closed the door silently behind her. Approaching the room, she recognised the song as one she sang when Snufkin had a cold.   
Hearing it in such a deep, smooth voice felt… surreal.  
“What once was… mine.” he concluded the song, Moving the blanket over the now sleeping child. With a kiss on his forehead, Joxter left the boy to rest. Joxter felt so bad for the boy, but this was all he could do without dragging him all the way to Moominpappa’s place for fever medicine, and he didn’t want to waste his friend’s time with a fever.

“Mymble? You’re back early, what cut the visit short?” Asked Joxter as he left the child’s bedroom.  
“I left because I wanted to. I had a feeling something wasn’t right so I decided to come home to check on things. Is he okay?” Mymble said calmly. Joxter nodded, leading his tall wife away from the bedroom door and through to their own room.  
Mymble opened a book and Joxter huddled down, resting his head on the tall lady’s lap. Mymble simply smiled as she stroked her husband’s fur just where he liked it.

Not even an hour later, Snufkin enters.   
“Dear, what’s wrong?” Mymble asked quietly, as not to wake the sleeping Joxter. She knew he needed it, since he hadn’t slept properly for a few days, as he was on high alert from the wolf attack earlier in the month.  
“I-I felt scared, so I came through” Snufkin mumbled as he approached the bed. Clambering over limbs, he plonked himself next to his dad. Careful not to wake him, he cuddled into the sleeping cat dad he loved so dearly.  
The next morning, Joxter awoke to a gently fussing Snufkin in his arms and his wife gently spooning him. He smiled, releasing the squirming boy. To his surprise, the boy made a b-line for the bathroom, where Joxter heard some nasty noises. Rushing in, he found the boy had indeed been sick, and he was a bit messy.  
After cleaning the boy’s face, he swaddled him and put him to rest on the sofa.   
“Snufkin isn't feeling well, he won’t be able to visit your son today. Sorry, Moomintroll, I know your boy was looking forward to it, but he’s just been sick so I don’t think that’s an optio—Moomintroll, don’t you dare—MOOMINTROLL!” Joxter spoke to Moominpappa over the phone, only to hear that they were coming over to help heal the little kitten.  
Within the hour, the door was opened for the Moomin family. Moominmamma brought some home remedies for sickness and fevers, and Moominpappa brought some towels and some homemade soup. Moomintroll brought some toys and a flower crown for his friend. He was wearing his ow, which was a very cute sight.

“You’re all ridiculous” groaned Joxter as he came out of the bedroom, now dressed in more than a sleeping shirt and boxers   
(Mymble called them joxers one time and Joxter threatened to just leave).   
Moominpappa and Moominmamma both placed their things on a table near the couch, and Moomintroll climbed onto the couch to cuddle with his friend.  
Snufkin was sleeping until his friend had cuddled into him.   
“hey moomee” He groaned, moving for comfort. Joxter sat by them, placing a cold damp towel on Snufkin’s forehead.  
“hey Snufkin. How’re you feeling?” Moomintroll asked politely. Moominmamma looked proud of her boy’s politeness and proceeded to bring over a small bottle of dark liquid. IT was a recipe that was sure to clear all the sickness up in a day or so, but it tasted nasty.  
Snufkin smelled the concoction on the spoon and curled up defensively. Joxter simply smiled and took the spoon, emptying it back into the bottle gently. He grabbed a raspberry from his pocket and crushed it onto the spoon. 

“This’ll make it taste better. You can have more raspberries when you’ve taken it, okay kitten?” Joxter offered as the bottle poured onto the spoon. Snufkin nodded, but still looked grumpy.  
Taking the spoonful, he quickly moved away from the bitter spoon. Joxter just laughed quietly at the face the boy pulled, giving him a clean spoon of fresh raspberries to get rid of the aftertaste. Snufkin took the spoon and clambered and curled up on his father’s lap. He cuddled in as he was slowly fed the tangy berries.   
“Your son is certainly a papa’s boy, isn't he?” Moominpappa commented. Moomintroll was a mama’s boy for sure. Joxter smiled and nodded softly as his kitten curled up on his lap, going to rest. A proud smile found it’s way across Joxter’s face, which the others noticed but didn’t comment on.

Snufkin was carried to bed, and the Moomins went home (after a glass of wine and some banter). Things were tidied and Mymble carried her husband to bed after passing out on the couch

The next morning, Snufkin was perfectly well! Although, it seemed he gave his fever to his father. 

 

“atCHOO! Dammit!”


	4. I hate seeing you leave but I want to see you grow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How I believe Snufkin left to find his own story. It's not accurate, so forgive me here. theres alot of head-cannons so leave accuracy at the door please

It was a rainy night outside. Joxter couldn’t sleep, he had a feeling of dread coursing through his veins as he tried to sleep. He heard faint footsteps, he heard a cupboard be opened and a few plates and pieces of cutlery be taken from the drawers. He heard a pot drop and a voice quietly shout “SHIT--!” before it dropped. 

He crept out of bed, replacing himself with a plush pillow, as not to wake Mymble. Sneaking towards the kitchen, he kept his footsteps invisible and his breaths quiet. Hearing his son rushing around, shoving belongings into a leather bag, he stood away and stood there in the doorway.  
“Snufkin, what are you doing?” Joxter asked, making himself known. Snufkin dropped a map and some rations of food in surprise, staring at his father. “i-it’s not what it looks like! Please don’t be mad!” the boy cried, picking up his dropped items.

Joxter knew what his son was doing. He was going to leave, to find his own adventures, like he did. 

“Snufkin, I’m not mad. I know what you’re doing, I did the same. Come here, I have something to show you” Joxter whispered, approaching the boy and placing a hand on his shoulder. Snufkin looked up at his father with guilt, but he was surprised to see the smiling face his father was wearing. “You’re growing up and want to explore the world, I get that, and I’m proud of you”

“for starters, let me see that bag of yours--” Joxter sighed, reaching around his son towards the leather bag. Peering inside, he saw some useful items but not many. It was mostly books and other things to the like. “Snufkin, are you using these for kindling? You won’t need these, take one or two” Joxter advised, taking some of the large books.

“speaking of books, I have something for you.” Joxter said, turning his attention towards his son. “come with me, you’ll like it” he added. Taking his boy’s wrist, he brought Snufkin along behind him.

They went towards the workroom Snufkin was forbidden from. Opening the door, leather hung on the racks, a book press held a text block and several knives and carving tools hung from the wall. Joxter had a secret hobby of bookbinding. Snufkin was surprised as he was led over to a shelf full of books about bookbinding and Fae-like patterns.

He picked out a few before reaching behind the stacks to pull out a small leather-bound book. It had delicate carvings on the cover, each one having a different meaning and overall it looked very intricate. Joxter scanned the cover, opening it to reveal beautiful end-pages and many pages. The straps hung from the cover, the buckles shining gently in the low light.

“I made this a while ago, around the time you were getting adventurous. Ii never had somewhere to put my own stories, so I made you one to house your adventures.” Joxter sighed, opening to the back page to reveal some coloured pencils and a black pen held in elastic, as well as a rubber and a sharpener.   
“Every time you find yourself unable to think straight, write it down and clear it from your mind. If it ever runs out of pages, come here and I’ll give you a fresh one” Joxter pressed the book into the boy’s hands, closing it and tying the buckles.

“you still need to finish packing, so get back to that” Joxter teased, and they left the room quietly.

Gently advising the boy what to pack, the bag filled with a vast array of useful things. Before long, it was ready and so was Snufkin.  
“do you have the fire-starter kit?” “yep” “and the switchblade” “yeah” “and the swiss army knife?” “right here” “the sewing kit?” “Uhm, yeah” was back and forth as the two packed. 

Joxter, after an hour of preparation, was satisfied with the things his son was bringing. He sent the boy upstairs to get dressed properly for this life, advising he bring his hat and a thicker pair of boots. While Snufkin changed, Joxter placed a small box into the bag, burying it deep. It contained another small book, one that had been bound with a softer leather. It’s pages were music sheets, which included some pre-written songs and some other things of the sort. Along with the book was a mouth organ, a gorgeous thing with the smoothest sound Joxter could trade for at the market.  
“it’ll keep him entertained…” Joxter sighed, finishing packing the rations.

“Im ready!” Snufkin called quietly, stepping into the kitchen. He was wearing his green coat, autumn boots and green hat. Joxter asked that the coat be removed so that the things beneath were appropriate. A plain white shirt with brown trousers and suspenders were hidden beneath the coat, which Joxter approved.

Before the door was opened, Joxter placed a yellow scarf around the boy’s neck and a feather in the hat. The feather was a quill pen, so that he could write more accessibly, and the scarf for some added warmth.

“there, now you’re ready.” Joxter smiled as Snufkin smiled up at him, delighted with what he had done. Joxter could not be prouder of his boy, and he handed Snufkin a set of keys. They were keys to the house, in case he ever needed to return.  
“Hey, dad?” Snufkin asked, as he walked down the path. Turning to his son, Joxter listened.

“I’ll miss you…” Snufkin almost whimpered, hugging the man who raised him. Joxter’s heart felt happy and sad, and he smiled as he leaned down to hug the anxious boy. Snufkin held Joxter tightly, already feeling a sense of longing, but he pushed it aside. He wanted to do this, he wanted to go on his own adventures, and his father was proud of him for this. He couldn’t disappoint his dad, not after all they had done to prepare.  
“promise you won’t forget about me?” Snufkin asked, parting from the hug. The response almost made him cry

“Know this, kitten, that I will love you always. No matter what you do, no matter who you fall in love with, no matter where you go, you will always be my son at the end of the day, and I will always be your father. Go and enjoy yourself, kitten, go write your own story.” Joxter cooed to the nervous boy, cupping his face to comfort him. Snufkin nodded, hugging his dad tightly before letting go and smiling. Picking up his bag, he waved to his dad and with a soft goodbye, Snufkin walked to the edge of the forest.

He immediately felt a sense of fear, excitement and longing. He wanted to do this, yes, but he looked back and his father was standing at the door. As he walked into the thick tangles of branches, he felt anxious and alone. His father had always walked by his side, and he was now walking alone through the woods he knew since he was a very young child. He saw things he had never seen before, things that he never noticed about the forest, like the soft sounds of creatures staring at him. They usually stayed away because of Joxter’s reputation, and god help anyone hurt the Joxter’s cub even now, because they would be hunted down the second the cub even let out a whimper or sign of distress.

Joxter watched the boy he raised walk into the forest they both knew so well, and he felt his heart leave his body. Without Joxter there to so much as look in a threat’s direction, he would be vulnerable to an attack or theft, and everyone knew that Joxter had spilled blood and caused the death of an alpha wolf because it dared to enter a house in the forest and decide a child that looked like an infamous, protective Mumrik and decide it looked like dinner.   
Thinking back to that time made Joxter grin inside at the thought of finding it dead the next day and knowing what his tiny pocket knife had done to the damned thing. Turned out he punctured the jugular artery and it bled out by the next morning. It was skinned and made into a little coat for Snufkin, one that he now wore as a shawl during the winter. It was a cute little thing, big buttons and a soft lining. Joxter did notice the dark fur poking out behind a small bag, smirking about how Snufkin was bringing something that would so distinctly remind him of his father.

Looking up at the sky, he saw a small cloud with a larger cloud beside it, and how the smaller cloud floated away from the larger one. Joxter felt it was best that he stayed away from his son as the boy grew and explored the world he had been protected from all his life.  
He thought of his own father, how Joxter had never really knew him and how he promised he would never abandon his boy. Even now, he didn’t think he did the best job, as apart from the roof over his head right now, he was homeless and alone. Him and Mymble had decided after Snufkin left that Joxter would leave, since the relationship was on the rocks, so he knew soon he would be packing his own bag to leave. He had done all of this for his son, and now here he was, watching his son leave home.

Both of them felt something missing, but they knew what the other would want. Joxter wanted his son to find his own story and to explore the world, and Snufkin wanted to make his father proud of him.

Joxter couldn't be more proud of his son in that moment in time, and a new story was beginning to be written before his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is inaccurate to the books and show, but I think this would be a good alternative to loosing his parents in a storm.
> 
> Also I just wanted some Craftsman!Joxter making books (a hobby of my own I think he would enjoy)  
> He may not be able to read them extremely well, so he makes them so that Moominpappa can continue to write his excessive memos.


End file.
